Shattered Beyond Repair
by ForeverLost222
Summary: Skyler Jones is broken, she cuts, she is insulted daily, and abused by a father she wished she didn't have. Things changed when she met five boys that tried to fix her. Will it work or will she shatter and be beyond repair? OC: Rated M for suicide, self-harm, and disorders. *trigger warning*
1. Disrupted Routines

**_Chapter One; Disrupted Routines_**

The shrill and incessant tones of my alarm clock burst through the utter silence of my room and I felt the utmost reluctance to get up from my bed. I still had three months of school left before I was entirely done with high school and I would never have to see the people that would give me jeering looks or hear their insulting remarks about myself. As if I didn't already say negative things about myself, but them talking made it even worse for me, and my father was the icing on the cake.

Finally, I sighed. If I didn't go to school, it would count as me giving up, and I had endured the whole of high school and middle school with these people so far, I could make it through three months. Oh, who was I kidding? No I couldn't. I was so weak once their taunts flew through the air for me to here.

Inwardly groaning at the prospect of continuing my torture at my school, I walked into the bathroom to prepare myself for school. Cleaning my teeth and washing my face, I applied simple foundation and blush, adding one coat of mascara. I didn't put much makeup on, since they already teased me enough. Starting to put more makeup on would just encourage them, although I wore little to none while they wore probably pounds on their face a day. Rubbing my lips with a simple gloss, I returned to my wardrobe.

Slipping into skinny jeans and a loose white, long-sleeved shirt, I lifted the hem of the shirt up just a little to examine my stomach where pale, shimmery scars shone out from what I put myself through. Dropping it, I tugged at the sleeves of the shirt to try and cover up my wrists in any way I could. Going back to my nightstand I slipped on tons of bracelets around my wrists. Everyone in the high school saw it and suspected something of it, but I would just ignore it. I've gotten those judgmental stares since middle school, sixth grade.

I dug around in my closet for a couple moments before taking out a hoodie and slipping it on over the shirt and bracelets. I took all precautions to hide whatever I could of my body. Changing into gym clothes was utter agony and normally I was in the changing rooms for a total of thirty seconds, just to get into my gym clothes and stuff my ordinary clothes into my backpack and then I was out once more.

Deciding that it was now or never, although I would preferably choose never, if I had the choice, I walked down the stairs, dragging my feet. My stomach rumbled quietly, but I ignored it. That would only increase the amount of calories I consumed today if I ate breakfast. I skipped breakfast and lunch as it was, and ate a diminutive dinner at night before going to bed. I ignored carbohydrates most of the time and have maybe three hundred calories a day, and I still wasn't underweight. That was how fat I felt and how other people saw me.

Grabbing my backpack, I walked out the door and locked up the house before turning in the direction of my old rust bucket of a car and hopping into the driver's seat. It was actually my dad's, but he had been picked up by a friend to go drinking last night, so I assumed he wouldn't be home until later this evening where I would be in for some serious trouble. Whenever the symptoms of a hangover struck him, his mood would turn stormy and he would go after me to vent his anger out. Then, I would harm myself some more when I was left alone, and the day would end. This happened once, maybe twice a week. I had adjusted to it slowly and it haunted my nightmares all the time.

Not realizing that I had zoned out once more, I had arrived in the school parking lot and swerved into a space before turning the car off and looking out. Already the main hallway was crowded and my locker was on the way other side. Awesome, I had to make my way through that entire corridor and then get through the rest of the day. This was one of the reasons I started hating school, especially when I reached freshman year.

Opening the car door, I stepped out and locked the car door and stuffed the keys into the pocket of my jeans before starting across the parking lot to get to the seething mass of kids cluttering the hallway. My Converse slapped against the asphalt that being the only sound I made before finally crossing the threshold to the school and bracing myself for the insults that would by tossed m y way soon.

"You are _so _fat, Jones!" called out one of the guys.

One of the jocks behind him added, "No guy would want to go out with you!" They all burst out into snickers and chuckles at this last comment and I shook myself out. This was nothing compared to the normal things I went through on a daily basis, so I wasn't even harmed by this. And I had never had a boyfriend or even shared a first kiss, so I couldn't argue back. They all knew that I was hopeless at romance as well since I had known them from middle school, so it wasn't like I could lie or make up something like I had a boyfriend that didn't go to this school and stuff like that.

With some more remarks called out at me, I finally made it through to my locker where they eventually subsided and I was in peace before my first class. Stuffing some random crap into the locker, I swung it closed as quietly as possible and locked it before sprinting around the corner to lean against the wall and hide away from the derisive, cruel eyes of the entire student body. Even sophomores and juniors teased me on occasion, and that was the worst part. People younger than me would look at me with that same gaze that betrayed no pity or sympathy for me. No one would relate to my situation in this school and I couldn't wait to get out forever. That would be my wish for Christmas or something is to get out of that school, even if Christmas already passed me by four months ago and I had found the relief of no school for nearly two weeks. That was a stress lifted off my shoulders.

The bell rang out again and I jerked myself off the wall and headed down one of the smaller hallways to get to my first class, which, today, happened to be Math, something I wasn't too bad at.

My teacher, Miss Hayes, was quite nice to me and sympathized with me for my social situation in school right now, but that was it. Our relationship extended no further than that. Just mere sympathy for how my life was in high school and I hated the glances she would toss at me every once and a while, as if I didn't understand how screwed I was in the first place. Pity doesn't help me here, so why even bother giving it to me?

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Class passed rather quickly for me and before I knew it I was packing my stuff up to the passing period to set off to my next class, Physics which was another class I excelled at. I had a very reasonable and logical brain, allowing me to receive good grades in most academic classes. I still tried hard, though, since it was high school and this would be on my resume for whatever college I sent an application to, if I even had enough money to pay for college tuition.

I went through seven more classes before the ending bell of school rang. I hadn't received so much suffering today, but I knew this couldn't last for long. If I knew my own luck, my father would come home today. I had work as well, so being beaten wouldn't be very helpful as normally he aimed for my face, and I had been running low on concealer lately so it wouldn't turn out very well for me. Strange looks would be given at McDonalds for how my face was so marred. This day turned from okay to utterly insane.

Driving home, I dreaded the thought of my father being home. Luckily, when I got there, he wasn't home, but I knew he would be and he would be extremely hung over. Jumping out of the car, I grabbed my backpack once more and trudged up the driveway into the house. I would want to get as much homework done as possible in the amount of time allotted before my father would come screaming into the house for me to get myself down the stairs so he could see me and then insult me and then abuse me. My father was such a kindly man, not.

Walking into the house, I scaled the stairs with my backpack still slung over my shoulder. My homework was a priority through all the struggles in my life right now, and I still tried to receive good grades in high school, and I miraculously managed to do so. Perching myself on the bed, I started to scribble out the first of three essays I had for English, thinking about how to phrase it so that it sounded pretty good and would earn a grade that was satisfactory, a B+ or better. I hovered around an average of A- or A, so getting an A- or B+ would be pretty good for me.

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It was about two hours and I had gotten through most of the homework assigned for the week, feeling pretty proud of myself if such a thing could be accomplished as I never felt pride, just disappointment, when the door slammed open suddenly and my father hollered, "Skyler!" I knew it was time and my stomach dropped. There would be no avoiding it. If I didn't go down there, he would come back here, and I didn't want that.

Dragging m y feet as if they were composed of lead, I began to walk down the stairs and into the living room where my father stood, leaning against the wall to support himself. Yup, he had definitely had his fill of alcohol today and I would certainly be in for it. He didn't hesitate to lunge for me, and I didn't even flinch. This had become a part of my life, so why even bother trying to run away or wince back?

He punched me in the face, pain searing across my left cheek but I didn't even let a whimper escape my mouth. My dad would get nothing out of me from the pain he caused me. He shoved me across the room until m y back came into contact with a wall, and all of my attention was now focused on that new source of agony. While I was vulnerable and slumped on the ground, he began to kick me in the stomach over and over. It hurt and finally a few tears slid down my cheeks, leaving streaks through my blush.

This dragged onward for a while until he finally passed out on the couch, leaving me sprawled and in immense pain. It was over for now and I wouldn't even bother cleaning up my face. It was too obvious and I wouldn't want to waste my concealer anymore. Even foundation and blush wouldn't cover what he had done to me today. Before I was able to get my bloodied clothes off and get ready for my job as a cashier at McDonalds, I rushed for the bathroom and vomited bile and slime into the toilet, contractions causing even more pain to emanate from my torso and I let a few more tears leak out and I started to sob silently.

When I was able to stand upright, I went to go get changed, tossing the ruined jeans and hoodie over into a pile in the corner of my room. I kept the shirt on as it only contained a couple of crimson specks. Pulling on a new hoodie and pinning my nametag onto it, I pulled on new skinny jeans as well. Taking my ponytail out of my blond hair and running my fingers through it, I pulled it back up into a ponytail. I never styled my hair for this job as there was no need for it. Going into the bathroom and applying just a tad of green eyeshadow, I slipped down the stairs, careful not to awaken my father.

Driving to work, I winced each time I moved my arms. It burned to move a centimeter, so moving my hands over the cash register was going to be awful today, but when wasn't it?

Arriving to the local greasy fast food restaurant I heaved out of my car, again pain rushing through me, dizziness making my world swirl. I felt sickened again, but I had to persevere. My father would go out drinking, or maybe gambling, tonight, so I would get some peace. Pulling the hood of my jacket up, I tried my best to hide the darkening bruises on my sides and the split on my lip, even if it was a hopeless attempt. Now I would receive judging stares from the customers that walked in.

Pulling the doors open, the scent of gross junk food wafted up into my nose and I barely refrained from gagging. Being how sensitive I was about eating, working here was killing me as the food was utterly disgusting and I was wondering how people didn't die from obesity from eating at this place just once. I mean, I wasn't judging, but this place provided food that could violate health laws all over the world. I'm pretty sure the chicken they say is real is artificial, but I wouldn't know since I was only the cashier and I refused to eat here, even if I would get the employee discount.

Taking my spot at the cash register, I waited for the first customer to wander in and order repulsive crap from here. They did. A lady of maybe thirty or so came in and walked right up to me with confidence. She was slightly overweight, but not too bad. I guess she only ate here on occasion. She ordered a cheeseburger and a salad and a small drink. I guess that wasn't too bad except for the fact that she would probably fill the cup with soda and the cheeseburger had like four hundred calories in it. I wouldn't even start to imagine eating so much from here. I printed her receipt and handed it to her before giving the order to one of the cooks in the back, who immediately hopped to it.

Customers came in and went and I served each their revolting meals. Finally, maybe an hour or so before we had to shut down for the night, five boys tumbled in with excess energy for this time of day. They all joked around and they all had accents. In America, all I ever heard was New Jersey, New York, and Southern accents, so British accents were new for me, and even in that type of accents they varied majorly.

They came up to the counter to start ordering their food. They all ordered some kind of large burger, medium fries and large drinks. Although, there was a blond boy that ordered twice as much, and looked as eager as a boy on Christmas, and I was quite surprised with how much he ordered and how thin he appeared. Repeating their order, I peeked up at them just to confirm everything. They all nodded and then one of them zeroed in on my face and I knew I was in some deep crap.

"What happened to your face?" asked a boy with this slightly sloped brunette hair, resembling the hairstyle of Justin Bieber, while having energetic and lively turquoise eyes.

"Um, I fell," I mumbled back. It was a lie that was slightly believable, right?

"Love, people don't get two black eyes, a cut on their cheek and a slit lip from falling," informed another one with wavier brown hair that was darker, more of a chocolate type of brown. He had dark brown eyes under thick, furrowed eyebrows and he had a deeper voice than the one that had spoken earlier.

"It happens," I snapped back in an angry tone.

"Well, it doesn't seem reasonable, but it is your business," said the same boy with a shrug, even though he seemed unconvinced.

I turned around and repeated the order to the cook once more and he started busying away at the large order, his eyes wide with shock. We didn't receive orders like that normally, so it was indeed startling but we didn't say anything to the customers in fear of offending them.

While the boys turned away to go find a seat, I sighed and leaned against the wall directly behind the counter, letting my eyes flutter close to rest a little since I hadn't been able to catch a slight break since I started my shift, even if it was almost over. I just wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.

Suddenly, I opened my eyes to see one of the other boys, he had black hair done up in a high quiff and he had the same dark eyes. He had well-defined features with a prominent jaw line and veins stood out along his neck. He asked, "Why didn't you recognize us earlier when we ordered our food?"

"Why should I?"I asked with blank eyes. I wasn't good at remembering faces, and I was almost certain that I had never seen them before in my life.

"Um, we are…never mind," he said, before attaching a nervous chuckle at the end. I was suspicious, but I ignored it and then the cook came up with seven different trays because the five boys had ordered so much from this restaurant. We had made some good cash on them, and even if they pried in my business and asked way too many questions, I hoped they would come back since they had paid so much today, just for one meal.

The cook rang the bell with some difficulty and I laughed at him before I took two trays and set it down in front of them at their table before returning. It took several trips to get all their food to them before I left to get behind the cash register again. The night was nearly over, but I had to wait until the minute hit when my shift was over, so I watched the clock like a hawk. I had fifteen minutes yet.

They took a while to chow down on their disgusting food, so I had to stay extra while the cooks left to go home and do whatever it is they did. I never questioned them and they returned the favor. We were just workmates and only talked when necessary, even if we exchanged small talk if business was slow on occasion.

When I was sure they had finished, I came up to them and started taking their trays and dumped their trash for them. They were the only remaining customers, so I tried to aid them in any way possible, just to see if I could squeeze a tip out of them. "That isn't necessary," assured one of them, he had ridiculous curls and a deep, slow voice that seemed to entrance me momentarily.

"Well, I tried to help since you were the only ones left, so I didn't have to tend to anyone else. When business is slow, I do stuff like that," I said, just to make sure they knew it was normal of me to do that. I nodded at them curtly before returning to my register to wipe it down. The keys were sitting there so I could lock up since the manager was extremely lazy and wouldn't stay the extra few minutes to lock up on his own.

"Hey, love," said one of them, the blonde one.

"Hmm, what is it?" I asked to see if it was something involving my job.

"What are you doing tonight, since it is so late."

"Um, I suppose I'll go back home alone to get the last bit of my homework done and eat a bit of dinner," I said in reply. I was trying to be polite while I started to straighten my station, since I had to work tomorrow as well and I didn't want it to look bad in the afternoon so I wouldn't get yelled at by the lazy manager. Wiping a rag over the cash register and the counter, I glanced up at him. He was fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

"Well, you could come over with us to watch a movie."

"That sounds nice, but I have school in the morning and I can't afford to miss a day," I replied, even if it did sound truly nice to have some time to relax with company. But, I felt a little depressed after school today, and I was urging myself toward the beautiful, bejeweled knife I owned that I kept buried under all of my socks in one of my drawers in my room.

"Oh, come on. You can miss a day. I mean, who wouldn't want to miss a day?" he said, trying to convince me.

"Why do you want me to come over anyways?" I pondered, narrowing my eyes suspiciously.

"Um…" he paused for a second. "I suppose just to know you better."

I shrugged. "I guess I'll come over. I will just drive home so I won't have to miss school tomorrow." There was a certain reluctance that made me not want to say that. I would be ecstatic to miss school so I wouldn't have to go through so much pain and suffering.

"Up to you, of course," he responded, but he looked happy that I had agreed.

"Let me just wipe down the counter and lock up and we'll be on our way," I added.

He nodded before heading over to the other boys, probably to tell them the news about my agreement to their invitation. I quickly wiped down the rest of the counter before tossing the rag into the kitchen randomly to find it later. We had bunches of rags, so it wasn't like if I lost it we would never find another one. They were literally _everywhere _in the kitchen.

Taking the ring of keys, I walked out and waited for them to follow so I could lock up the doors. They didn't follow and I sighed before traipsing back in there and flicking all the lights off.

A couple girly screeches rang out and I chuckled as the wailing continued before they all scrambled out as quick as possible. "That's how you flush customers out of a restaurant," I said with satisfaction in my voice, basically oozing pride.

They all scowled at me and I grinned in a girlish manner at them before heading toward my car to follow them to their house. I knew that I shouldn't be doing this as they could be rapists or something, but it would be nice to get away from my current life for a while and escape all worries that constantly hovered over me, but I still felt just slight dread at going to five strange boys' house for the night. Well, what is life without taking risks?


	2. Two Movies, Madness, and Meltdowns

**_Chapter Two; Movies, Madness, and Meltdowns_**

**A/N: This chapter has self-harm in it. If you don't want to read about that, then you shouldn't read this story. **

I followed the car they drove in, which was quite nice and must have cost more money than I would care to think of. It was some kind of Audi, but I couldn't identify the exact type of Audi it was, and couldn't be bothered to try. It was their car, so why should I take extremes and try to see what it was?

It was a drive of about half an hour before we finally pulled into a neighborhood that seemed to be surreal it was so utterly elaborate. The houses themselves were three to four stories high and all made with an attention to detail and I drove with my eyes filled with awe and amazement. These five boys must be insanely rich if they could afford to live here, but if the car was any forewarning I should have expected this to come. It was hard to wrap my mind around, but it was just so weird being able to enter this neighborhood. I felt kind of intrusive with my car being so old and rusty.

Going deeper into the winding roads, the houses only got bigger and more extravagant and my admiration just increased. This area of houses was so…I don't even know how to describe it anymore because the houses have become more and more garnished with each passing second. It makes all other houses that I thought was exorbitant seem unpretentious and I was having a hard time dealing with all of this.

We eventually reached an ornate house, or rather a mansion. It was three stories and had a glass wall on one side, from what I could see. Everything was so flamboyant in this estate, and that was only judging from the exterior. I could barely imagine what the interior would behold for me.

Pulling into their ridiculously long driveway, I pulled up about halfway and hopped out of the car, shivering in the cool air. I still had a hoodie on but the unforgiving wind cut straight through it and onto my pale skin, most likely causing goose-bumps to arise on my arms and legs.

Striding up the long driveway, I eventually saw the boys waiting for me, pushing each other around without a care in the world and I utterly envied them. They had the perfect life. They had the huge mansion, the happiness, and the carefree attitude in life that I longed to have since I was twelve. I, on the other hand, was a girl that was called 'fat' on a daily basis and also known as the 'emo' of the school just because I was too depressed with life to not let it out through pain. It just wasn't possible to live my life with happiness. I had no friends, my father abused me, and I had to put on a façade on every single time I went into the public. Honestly, I hated my life, and have had suicidal thoughts more than once but never carried them out. I always had the will to stop myself.

"Hey, Cashier Girl!" I flinched back when a hand was so rudely waved in my face and I automatically stepped back several steps. After five years of abuse, both verbal and physical, you flee instead of fight back. They didn't notice that I wanted my space and continued to pursue me and I desperately latched my teeth down on my lower lip as I started trembling. I tried holding it together, but they didn't understand what I was going through.

When I didn't respond, they shook my shoulders slightly and that's when I broke. After all of the tension today from the insults to the beating my father gave me to the five boys asking me too many questions about my current life, I just broke. I vented, and I vented through tears. They never fell but brimmed in my eyes. I just started shaking before dropping down into a fetal position to get away from them. It may have been a bit melodramatic but you become that way after going through my life, trust me.

"What did you _do, _Louis?" asked one of the other boys tiredly.

"Nothing, she just kind of…I don't even know!" he defended himself, putting his hands up in the air to show his innocence.

I did nothing, however. I just continued shivering, probably from the cold and from my vulnerability, but I wrapped my fat arms around my chubby legs, feeling the fat squish and I felt even more disgusted with myself. With my knees tucked up to my torso, the unneeded fat on my stomach also was spread out, and I felt horrible. I felt the sudden urging upon myself to go to the bathroom and find anything. Something sharp and I needed it soon. I was slowly breaking and I needed the release of pain.

"Let's just get inside," muttered one of the other boys before they turned to me.

I got up and said nothing with my head bowed. I knew nothing of these boys and I nearly cried in front of them and showed my inner self, the broken girl, the hollow shell. Before my mother died, she urged me to see a therapist and then she got into that car crash and just made my situation worsen. My cutting got deeper, suicidal thoughts appeared, and I started dressing in darker clothes. That's when the taunting began to come in force and my father came back into my life, not as a father figure, but as a secret abuser. I kind of blamed my mom for my situation, but that was just because of the need I had to blame it one someone even if that happened to someone even if that happened to be my own mother.

They led me into their house, Louis unlocking the door silently. I knew he felt somewhat guilty but I wasn't going to reassure him. I didn't even have the strength to give myself support, as I had none to spare. We walked in and even in my current state; I had to admire the inside. It was beautiful and tastefully decorated for five boys. It was a white and beige theme with the occasional glossy wood feature on it and pictures scattered on the walls. It really was beautiful.

There were stairs directly in front of me, probably leading up the stairs to other rooms and I swerved around them as the other boys had and followed them into a luxurious living room, already envying them of the house they had. Their living room contained two cream-colored sofas on a carpet hued in white. There was a wood coffee table in the middle of the two, as they were perpendicular to each other. A flat-screen TV of an enormous size was set up on the wall and my jaw dropped a little. There was a door the led to the kitchen most likely. There were consoles of video games scattered about below the TV, which they probably played quite often seeing as there were three different brands of game consoles. That was all I could observe of this room from first glances. It was actually quite neat though, considering five boys lived here.

"This is nice," I complimented in a quite undertone, not really wanting them to hear me, just so I could say something to break this unnerving, awkward silence.

"Thanks," returned the wavy-haired brunette with dark brown eyes underneath thick brows. He had spoken to me at the restaurant, in fact they all had, but I remembered his distinct voice from earlier. It was deep with a thick accent and memorable to the human ear.

"Do you live here all the time? Because it doesn't sound like you are from here," I tentatively asked, not knowing if they would want to tell me that. I mean, who would want to tell about where they are from to a girl they just met. I know I certainly wouldn't, but my past is a touchy subject that I wouldn't like to share with anyone. In fact, I haven't told anyone because no one is close enough to me that I would trust them with such a secret and I had no friends, so it wasn't like there was anybody to tell in the first place.

"No, we're from different parts of England, but we are here in the United States on a vacation," replied a ridiculously curly-haired boy with shining green eyes that had a mixture of mischief, joy, happiness and a bunch of other emotions. I wonder what it is like to be so positive about life. I certainly haven't felt what they have felt based on what their eyes convey. They say the eyes are the window to the soul. Well, my eyes must be bleak, dark and depressing.

"Want to watch a movie?" suggested the blond boy. I detected a thick Irish accent from him. So, one of them isn't from England, but the rest of them sound like it from what I have gleaned when they spoke. Some of them don't speak often. But they certainly aren't a quiet bunch, to be sure.

"Sure," I responded with nonchalance. Honestly, I just wanted to go home and fall asleep or something. I felt uncomfortable here. I had always felt nervous around the opposite gender from never having a boyfriend and from my father abusing me. I'm sure not all guys are like that, but I just can't get myself to trust any of them. I don't know if I will ever be the same cheery child I was before I turned twelve.

I let them decide upon a movie and they slid it into the DVD player. I settled down on one edge of the couch, seated next to the curly-haired one. I learned that his name was Harry, but I am going to call him Curls if I ever see him again, which I found highly unlikely.

This movie was somewhat scary as to how it related to me. Hit after hit was exchanged upon the girl from an abuser and she self-harmed herself in one of the scenes. That got my pulse pounding while the others just looked relaxed. I couldn't watch this movie anymore, not without thinking those thoughts. I had to vent now or I might shatter again.

"Do you have a bathroom?" I choked out.

They all nodded, giving me strange looks and pointed down the hall. "It's the last door on the right," Liam added and I nodded before darting down the corridor. I veered to the right and into the bathroom before slamming the door shut and locking it carefully. Seating myself on the toilet, I silently slipped a tiny pocketknife out of my jeans. After the movie, the beating, the questions, everything today I just couldn't take it.

I slid my left sleeve up to reveal a mixture of shimmering scars and fresh cuts and some in the process of being healed. I flipped the blade open and pressed lightly against my forearm. Sliding the cold razor across the skin and gently tearing the delicate, unmarred skin. Only three drops of blood emerged, but they were beautiful, brilliant red against the pallid hue of my skin as they formed perfect circles before gently streaking down my wrist and I sighed. It wasn't a matter of if I wanted to or not, it had become a necessity of my life, a constant need driving me to do so. It was like a drug, so addictive and I knew I couldn't stop now, not with just one.

Continuing onward I cut on my stomach and thigh instead as the blood on my sleeve would be noticeable but the dark skinny jeans would hide it well from the boys if I went back out there. After making ten or so more cuts, I finally felt unpressured and slightly less stressed than I was this morning or throughout the afternoon. Before reemerging, I felt a certain relief fill the air, but I made no sound except an inaudible sigh. Making sure my pants were firmly secured on my waist, I reemerged, hoping the stains weren't noticeable from here. They shouldn't be, I should know from experience. That was a sad statement that I had experience with this. But, it was true nonetheless.

Hesitantly approaching the boys once more, they all watched me carefully as if I were a fragile piece of china that might break into pieces at any moment, which might be a real possibility in my state of mind, considering the things I go through every day. At least I had a slightly reasonable explanation as to why I was so sensitive about things like people touching me, depressing movies, and other assorted things.

Nobody said anything for a while and I muttered, "I think I'm going to go home." It was quiet, but the room was so silent that the quiet was deafening, so I'm sure everybody heard me. I got up to go leave when a voice stopped me.

"Wait, can we get your number so we can at least talk to you again?" asked Liam. His eyebrows were furrowed into a scowl.

I shrugged, refraining from hunching my shoulders. Honestly, I didn't want to hang out with them again, but I didn't want to seem rude, so I handed them a little slip of paper with my neat handwriting scrawled onto it and my number. It had the phone number and then my full name next to it so they wouldn't forget about who I was and then stare at the random phone number strangely. Just in case, because you never know with teenage boys.

Sighing, I made my way out of their house as quickly as possible and hopping into the car before they could stop me and draw me back into their niceties and small talk and entrancing accents. I would resist anyways. I really and desperately wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible because I knew they would ask question like why I was in there for so long and what I was doing in there and I didn't want to face questions like those because I was a horrid liar.

Driving away, the tires screeched against their paved driveway as I swerved and drove out of their neighborhood so focused on getting out that I took no time in admiring the houses and how rich and expensive they looked with a lot of hard work put into it. I knew they wouldn't follow me because they had enough sense not to follow me, at least they had that much brains in them. Snorting at this thought, I glanced around and realized that I was back home and panting. My heavy breathing indicated that I was stressing out over nothing. I did that quite often, actually before finals at the end of school and things similar to that. I never been in a social situation where I started to flip out like this, except for when Louis shook me by the shoulders, bringing back flashbacks of when my father did the same exact thing the first time he abused me.

Sighing, I got out of the car and trailed into the house, unsure of what to do now. I sure as hell wasn't going to go to school tomorrow. Not in a state like this. I don't care what I said about not wanting to skip school, but I don't want to deal with the insults thrown at me while in a state like this. Who knows? I might end up muttering to myself like some kind of crazy person tomorrow if anybody bugs me. Or I might lash out. It could be unpredictable after having a panic attack, which stemmed from me having an anxiety disorder. I was such a screwed-up mess. My life was so fucked up that I didn't even know what to do with myself anymore.

**A/N: Hello! How do you like it so far? Is it good? Give me your reviews! **


	3. The Twitter Lockdown

**_Chapter Three; The Twitter Lockdown_**

I called in sick that day, unable to build up the courage and will to brave school today. It just wasn't possible. I spent time lounging in my bed like nothing mattered. I didn't even eat dinner last night I was so stressed out, but it was slightly normal for me to not eat anything for a period of time. I had a small glass of water this morning just to fill my stomach up without consuming any calories or carbohydrates.

So, here I sat. It was nearly noon and I was still lying uselessly in bed with my laptop perched up on my thighs while I scanned Tumblr and all the stories they had and funny pictures that would occasionally have a smile tugging at my lips. This website always cheered me up when I was all depressed. It sounded kind of lame, but the Internet was my lifesaver and literally my only friend. That sounded so dumb and retarded, I can't even say anything.

I had been in this position for the last three hours or so, just clicking and scrolling on the laptop while trying to see as much as possible through the two swelling eyes I had from my father. They were probably bruised as well, so I couldn't go out into public right now until I iced it or used some kind of medication to let the swelling die down. I tried using Tylenol but that was an absolute worthless attempt at relieving pain.

Suddenly, while I was reading some One Direction fan fictions on Tumblr, I felt my phone vibrate through the sheets and blankets, notifying me I had received a text. I scrambled around before grasping it and opening it to see who it was from, my eyes wincing slightly from the pain the light caused.

**From: Unknown Number**

**Hey Skyler! The boys and I were wondering if you wanted to hang out today since we have nothing to do. We were going to go to a fast food restaurant. Let me know!**

**~Liam**

I was considering declining it, but sighed. I didn't want to disappoint, even though I knew it wouldn't be much of a disappointment if I rejected their invitation since he probably sent the text out of politeness and not even caring. I would accept anyways, since I really needed to get out of the house. Spending the entire day on the computer isn't going to solve my problems. Actually, yeah, it would, but I still would go out to the restaurant with them. It sounded nice.

**To: Liam **

**Sure, would love to. Pick me up in an hour?**

**~Skyler**

Kicking the warm sheets off of me, I put my laptop to sleep before setting it on the floor and getting up. I stretched real fast before kicking into gear. I said an hour and I had to do a lot of things to alter my appearance in just an hour. Stripping down from my pajamas and desperately averting my eyes from the mirror, I stepped into the shower and started the water, feeling it hit my skin in a soothing manner. I shampooed my hair with some coconut shampoo and washed my body with vanilla body wash before hopping out and wrapping a towel around myself.

Drying my hair and straightening it quickly, I pinned back the bangs that threatened to fall in my face before starting on the makeup. Applying the usual foundation and blush, I put some silver eyeshadow on just to stand out and make it noticeable before putting both eyeliner and eyeshadow on. I rarely ever did that, but I would try to make my appearance okay for once since I was going to be seen in public. That decreased the amount of bruising on display on my face. Putting some shiny lip gloss on, I capped that up and stuffed everything into an old purse that I would take with me to hold the makeup.

Walking into my wardrobe, I put on some denim skinny jeans and a turquoise shirt that reached to my mid-forearm and had lace designs on the sleeves. It had a defined collar as well, and I liked the shirt. It was one of the only nice shirts I had. Pulling on socks, I walked downstairs leisurely knowing I had some time, about fifteen minutes to kill.

Taking my phone out, I played a couple games of Pac Man on it before the doorbell chimed out quite loudly in fact. I strode to go get it and opened the door to reveal five smiling boys. Letting a small smile overtake my face, I walked out but not before grabbing my Vans. I slipped those on as they were all black, even if they were a size too small and made my feet look absolutely tiny and I despised the fact, but it was the only one even close to my size.

"Are you ready to go, Skyler?" asked Liam graciously, nearly bowing. Holding his hand out for me to take, an offer I absolutely ignored I walked out before locking the house up, even if there was nothing of value in the residence since neither my father or I owned anything truly special.

"Yeah," I replied, not bothering with long replies. I was ready. And I said so. There would be nothing more out of me for now.

I hopped into their expensive car and admired the leather interior slightly before leaning back. Louis was driving but all the boys would occasionally sneak glances at my face to see how much the bruises had formed overnight. "Does your face hurt?" asked Niall bluntly.

"No. I took Tylenol," I lied. Tylenol is absolutely useless, but I didn't want to say so. I wouldn't want to make a big deal about my face. It happened nearly every week, and even if it stung slightly my father had done much worse to me.

"Alright," replied the Irish blond, turning his head back to face forward.

Silence enveloped the car directly after our short conversation and I could nearly cut the awkwardness with a knife right now, that's how…weird it was in their car right now. It was like they didn't even want to talk to each other when I was around or something, which made sense, I suppose as I was not necessarily a fun person to talk to. The five boys were slowly taking after the kids in my school, but it didn't matter to me anymore because I was used to that as well.

After ten more minutes of no speaking, the car pulled into a parking lot and pulled up into a slot. People with cameras and weirdly shaped microphones were milling around. Paparazzi were here, but why? I don't understand why they feel they must stalk celebrities and their personal life. I hoped they wouldn't make too much of a deal of a new girl being with the most popular boy band in the world, but somehow I knew that they would make a huge deal out of it.

Liam stepped out of the car first and blinding flashes erupted; I felt bad for the poor boy, even if he had been through it many times already. It just didn't seem right to do such a thing like shove cameras and microphones into peoples' faces when they were walking to go eat or something.

One by one, the boys emerged from the vehicle and then Harry, who exited last, turned and beckoned to me to come out. This was absolutely great. I came to a food place, even if I wasn't going to eat anything, and awkward silence would engulf the entire table while we were there, and now I had to face paparazzi? This was nearly worse than yesterday.

Sighing, I resigned to heaving myself out of the car, and turned to the boys to follow them up into the restaurant. Even more flashes blinded me when I emerged from the car because I was some girl with One Direction, so now the entire media has to flip out. If you would take the time to please note that sarcasm, thank you because it was there. Harry latched onto my hand for reassurance even if I didn't need it.

Questions followed as well, "Which member of One Direction are you dating?" Wait what? One Direction? I knew that they were five boys…but I didn't think it possible to meet them. I just thought they were five egotistical boys. That changed my whole perspective on them. So, that's why Zayn asked me if I recognized them or not. Everything seemed to click together now.

"Is it Harry?"

"Harry, is this your new girlfriend?"

"Louis, is Eleanor pregnant with your child?"

A lot more questions followed which the boys and I all deftly avoided before entering the building and Harry dropped my hand. I snarled, "You didn't have to hold my hand like I was a child."

"I just thought you would need some aid since you haven't done it before," Harry responded blandly as we finally found a seat.

"I didn't," I muttered under my breath, as I was not very happy at this moment and all I wanted to do is get home. Now, I would be forced to consume food loaded with calories in front of these boys, and that didn't feel very appealing to me, but neither did food so this was practically a lose-lose situation for me.

Sitting down, a waiter came over. "I'm John," he introduced himself. "I'll be your server today; can I start you off with any drinks?" He was quite pleasant, but a bit overboard.

"Water," I said for myself while the rest of the boys ordered sodas and things like that, which almost made me gag from the amount of calories, sugars, and carbohydrates in those beverages. We all received glasses full of what we ordered and the boys started gulping down their sugary drinks. I drank my water peacefully. I loved water. You could fill yourself up on it while having no calories or other assorted things that were going to make you fat. Sometimes, I would just drink water all day and not eat anything and be satisfied for the day.

That's what I loved about liquid diets as I had taken a few on occasion. They make you lose weight so fast, and they were quick, maybe a month or so. Drifting off into my thoughts on how not to eat much in front of the boys, I scanned the Weight-Watchers part of the menu. Even then, there were more than a hundred calories eat and I felt disgust. That isn't watching your weight, that's watching you weight increase.

When John came back around to take our order, he asked the boys first and they ordered cheeseburgers, while Niall ordered three cheeseburgers. Then, the waiter turned to me and dread took over, churning my stomach. This wasn't going to be good. My throat felt dry as I knew that One Direction was waiting for me to order.

"I'll have the Caesar salad, but instead of the Caesar dressing, can I have light vinaigrette instead?" I said and the waiter nodded and scribbled something down onto his notepad before bidding us a goodbye and scurrying off to the kitchen to tell the cooks what we ordered. The five boys were all staring at me strangely.

"What?" I asked irritably.

"Why did you order so little?" Niall asked, confused.

"I'm not hungry," I responded. That was always my answer when people asked me. I didn't have an eating disorder I just despised eating food and always thought about what I ate. Most people would call that anorexia, but I wasn't underweight for my age, but I was overweight, so no I wasn't even close to anorexia, even if I always had a voice telling me I was fat in my mind, but I blamed the kids I went to school with about that.

{}{}{}{}{}

The boys ate quickly while I picked at my salad, not interested in eating. I got maybe halfway through when the boys claimed they were finished while they, again, gave me weird looks, but this time I ignored them. The waiter came over once more and asked if I was done since I was the only one with food on my plate. Nodding my head, I pushed the plate toward him, as I didn't want to eat any more. I had already consumed maybe seventy five calories in that salad and it was not even late afternoon yet, I felt utterly disgusted.

We all headed back out where paparazzi were still swarming around, having nothing better to do than stalk people. More flashes of camera were seen, the blinding white lights dazing me and leaving dots swimming before my eyes. There were many more questions shouted out, but again they were ignored.

"Let's just get back to our house," Louis muttered. He seemed upset by all the questions that were shot his way about him and Eleanor.

"What about dropping me off?" I asked, surprised. My eyebrows arched.

"We aren't taking you home. You shouldn't be alone after that. Now that they know who you are, they won't leave you alone. They're probably following this car now," Liam said with a scowl implanted on his face.

"Oh," I said. I didn't really know what to do about this.

Pulling out my phone, I went onto Facebook as I had nothing better to do at this very moment since silence swamped the car once more. The restaurant and the car ride there had been difficult enough, now I had to spend time at their house for an indefinite amount of time? I was starting to dread this, even if their house was crazily extravagant.

Many people had posted on my wall, several being Directioners that had nothing better to do with their lives. Pictures of me with the boys had been uploaded and I knew I was in some trouble. I braced myself for the insults before scanning through it. They were horrid. I was fat; I was ugly, among other assorted and really quite creative insults. It hurt me deeper and deeper each time.

"Do you have Twitter?" questioned Zayn suddenly. He seemed worried.

"No…" I replied, unsure of what he was getting after.

"Good," he said. He seemed relieved. I felt so out of the loop right now.

Suspicious of what he was talking about, I went to my phone and downloaded the Twitter application. I wanted to know what was going on. I formed my own account and looked at the circling tweets right now. There were several pictures of me with the boys, flinching away from the people taking pictures. The retweets below were even worse.

**Ergh, that new girl with 1d is so ugly!**

**Totally! And fat, to add on top of that!**

It kept on going like that and I started shaking. This was so bad; I couldn't even handle it anymore. Closing out of the lap, I leaped out of the room and into the bathroom once more, shaking. I wouldn't cut again, no. I just sat here shaking. I knew I was ugly and I knew I was fat, why must people point it out to my face. This was worse than high school since it was people I didn't even know insulting me. Tremble after tremble passed through me and I didn't know how much longer I would last with talking to One Direction and being talked about on media before I snapped.

From the bathroom, I heard murmurs coming from the boys. "We can't let her see Twitter," muttered Zayn.

"She would snap. Did you see her salad today?" returned Niall.

All of them were serious about this. Well, too late, guys because I already saw Twitter, and I'm slowly breaking anyway even without the help of the public although they certainly sped it along. I knew I liked One Direction, I mean they were cool guys, but hanging out with celebrities was difficult. I was vulnerable mentally and then paparazzi just have to go and snap pictures of me and then Directioners talk about me on Twitter and Facebook. I hate my life right now.

Sighing, I drifted in and out of suicidal thoughts, even if it were utterly horrible that I did. Who cared? One Direction didn't. They were just people I met at a McDonalds that thought I was interesting. They wouldn't care. Nobody at school would care. I had no relatives that cared. I didn't even have any friends. Why was my life worth living anymore?


	4. Too Far Gone

**_Chapter Four; Too Far Gone_**

I was now at home again, and it was the day after I had seen everything that people had said about me without even knowing me. That's what hurt the most were that they were utter and complete strangers. To say the least, I had harmed myself yesterday and it had never felt as good as it did yesterday. The relief of everything just floating away from me momentarily was great, I must admit but it all came crashing back down harder than ever when I woke up this morning.

Standing in front of the mirror, I lifted the hem of my shirt up to reveal my stomach which protrude quite a ways and I sighed. This was gross. I mean, I ate less than one hundred calories yesterday and I never seemed to get any thinner. I would always be fat, no matter how much I exercised or how little I ate. I felt gross and nasty.

Sighing, I left the shirt fall back down to rest at its natural place. I always wore loose shirts to hide the excess fat on my body. Why couldn't I have the model body and the gorgeous facial features? I was known as the fat girl throughout middle school and high school no matter how hard I tried to rid myself of that label. I was still fat to myself, so imagine what I looked to other people. Groaning at this, I heard my phone ring out in shrill tones that indicated I had received yet another text. No, not another one from those boys, I don't think I could handle another catastrophe.

Reluctance overtook my body as I slowly made my way over to my phone to look at it. This time it was from Harry.

**From: Harry Styles**

**Hey, love. I was just wondering if you could meet me outside. We have to go somewhere and we need you to come with us.**

**~Harry**

Frowning at this elusive text that avoided giving any specific answers I texted a quick reply.

**From: Me**

**Sure, I'll go. Where are we going?**

**~Sky**

He didn't text back. Damn you, Harry Styles. Moaning at the prospect of having to go out into public after yesterday's fiasco, I stripped down and put deodorant and a warm vanilla perfume before browsing my wardrobe for possible apparel. I wanted to look okay, so I chose some more skinny jeans. I had almost twenty pairs of skinny jeans, and I didn't even wear them all sometimes. Slipping on these black ones, I searched through my shirts that swayed on their hangers. Finally, I chose a tank top with a transparent shirt on top, both hued in black.

Applying makeup that matched the dark theme, I slipped downstairs and put on regular Converse before awaiting the ring of the doorbell, which actually came only three minutes later. Opening the door to reveal a grim-looking Harry, I scowled at the serious look on the boy's face and followed him out the door to his car, which was different than the one that I had seen twice before. Climbing in, I sat in the passenger seat.

"Well you tell me where we are going?" I asked.

"No," he said seriously.

I huffed indignantly at him before turning my head to face out the window. Leaning my forehead against the cool glass of the window, I gazed outside of the car at the flashing things passing us by, cars, trees, buildings so many things.

It was only ten minutes before we arrived at a large, corporate building and Harry got out of the car while waiting for me silently. As soon as I was out, he led me into the building among the twisting hallways and corridors of the building. There were pictures of several celebrities including One Direction, who I now realized that I had met. Sighing at my own stupidity, I followed the older boy in front of me.

There was a certain room that Harry barged into and I saw four of the other boys along with their manager and the one and only Simon Cowell. I tried not to react as Harry sat down next to Liam and motioned to sit next to him. I plopped down into the little desk chair next to him around the mahogany conference table.

Simon just started talking immediately, "You boys befriended this girl without even considering the risks. Now, she will get hate, you will get hate and things will start to go downhill."

"But, Uncle Si-"

"No, Louis. Don't say anything. I have thought of a solution that might make the fans a little more peaceful with Skyler."

"Yeah, what is it?" asked Liam eagerly. He seemed to care for how I felt. I stayed silent not wanting to screw up in front of Simon Cowell, so I just zipped it.

"Well, you can start to date either Harry or Niall since the others are already taken," the man said with a smile. He seemed proud of his idea; however Harry's, Niall's and my jaw dropped nearly to the floor, possibly below.

"What the hell do you mean date one of them?!" I screeched indignantly, my eyebrows dropping into a scowl.

"Exactly what I said," confirmed Simon. "You can choose to date either Niall or Harry, and then you will be able to stay with One Direction and not be judged."

"Oh, I will still be judged. In fact, I will be judged _more _than I previously was for dating one of them!" I exclaimed. This was madness. Sure, it would be cool to date a celebrity…but, why me? I'm the girl with low self-esteem that cuts her and thinks she is fat. I mean, seriously?! Why would One Direction's management do this to me?

"I will give you ten minutes to decide. You will make your decision then," Simon ordered before leaving the room.

Why me? Once more I ask you.

"Because we decided to befriend you," Harry said. I must've said that out loud. I tend to do that a lot when I think too much. I start to mutter to myself. I'm so messed up. I could probably qualify to get into a mental asylum if I truly tried, but somehow I doubt that would help my peace of mind.

"Well, you have to choose one of us," Niall said timidly. I glanced back and forth between the two boys. Harry didn't seem to care otherwise, and I didn't want to hold him down since he was the 'player'. I made a mental list of pros and cons before finally deciding.

"Um, Niall, I suppose," I said hesitantly, feeling scared of their reaction.

Niall nodded, not showing emotion and neither did Harry while the onlookers being the other members of One Direction watched silently. I turned away, stood up from my chair and walked out of the conference room, unable to handle their stares. Striding down the hallway, I tried to remember how to get out of the building.

There were footsteps pounding behind me and an Irish accent yelled out, "Skyler, wait!"

Turning around, I saw Niall stand there, unsure of whether to comfort me or not. "Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

"Simon gave me no choice," I stated tiredly.

"Well, you could have chosen Harry," he suggested.

I gave him a look and he raised his hands up in defense. "Harry is a player. I wasn't going to choose him, if I did have to choose," I sighed.

"Let's just go back, Simon is probably expecting us back," he said.

Nodding, I fully turned and followed him as he weaved his way through the building and back to the same conference room. I was skittish about going back in there, but I did so anyways. Again, I received some glances from the boys, but I sat next to Niall without any comment or anything to say.

Simon returned and from the choice of seat that I had taken again, he knew my choice and yet he still asked me. "Who did you choose?" he asked, staring at me with his intense stare he was known for, and probably famous for as well.

Refraining from giving him a look, I said, "Niall."

Niall nodded, confirming this and I glanced at him out of the corner of my eyes. I also caught the stare Liam was giving me and the occasional looks I would receive from Louis. I don't' know why they were being like this. It wasn't my choice to have one of them been my boyfriend just to keep up One Direction's public image.

Simon also dipped his head in a single nod, scribbling something down on his clipboard. "You are free to go," he informed us and I shot out of my chair and was out of the door before any of them could react. I may be fat, but I was also pretty tall for my age so I could sprint relatively fast. Waiting outside while the boys got out, Simon bid us a farewell and turned in the opposite direction, walking deeper into the building.

Niall led me out of the building where there was a small crowd of paparazzi waiting for us to emerge from the building. Questions were shouted at us and my new 'boyfriend' found my hand and held it with his, nearly covering the small hands that were mine, giving me a reassuring squeeze as he tugged me gently along through the seething mass of cameras and microphones.

Finally, we arrived at the car Harry had driven to this place and the boys hopped in. Louis was at the wheel, Harry beside him. Then, there was Niall, Zayn, and Liam squished in the backseat. There was no space for me. Louis wiggled his eyebrows at me and motioned toward Niall's lap.

"No," I whined at him. "I'm too heavy!"

Niall scrunched his eyebrows up. "What do you mean? You are thin!"

"Say what?" I asked in confusion. "In no way am I skinny!"

"Yes you are!" he said, trying to convince me.

"Skyler, just get on Niall's lap!" groaned Louis, already tired of this conversation and, honestly, so was I. I didn't like talking about my eating, or my self-harm. Scrambling over Zayn and Liam in the process of getting over to Niall before tentatively settling myself down on his lap, I was surprised when he wrapped his arms around my waist and laid them lightly over my stomach, probably as a human seatbelt.

I winced however, when his hand grazed a fresh cut on my lower stomach from yesterday. That one had been deeper than the others, so it was more noticeable. Niall frowned and gently lifted the hem of my shirt up so he could see the only visible part of the cut, which was the end, an inch or so. There were scars cluttered around it as well and his frown deepened. "What is that?" he whispered.

"Um…" I didn't have a lie for this as normally nobody saw my stomach.

I knew I was in trouble now as Niall made me turn to him. Muttering in my ear so no one else could hear, he said, "Do you…harm yourself?"

Ashamed that this is how he found out, I nodded once, knowing it was enough confirmation for him to know that I was indeed a cutter, but he would have found out sometime.

"I will help you, Skyler, if you want. You don't have to be like this," he urged so quietly that it was inaudible.

"You don't understand. I'm too far gone. I've been doing this since I was eleven," I muttered. "My depression is too deep now. I'm broken beyond repair."


	5. Intervention

**_Chapter Five; Intervention_**

The boys, even Niall, left me alone for the rest of the day and I had a certain feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach that Niall had betrayed me and told them. I was pissed, to say the least. I had entrusted Niall with one of my darkest, deepest secrets, and he had just gone around spitting it out to the boys as if it were nothing. A scowl was plastered on my face most of the day and, after such a conversation with Niall, a razor was involved, most definitely.

This was the first time I actually felt suicidal in quite a while. Normally, it never went that far, but this time it did. Nobody used to know that I cut myself, but they did have their suspicions, which was different. Now, five boys knew and how could I trust them to keep their secrets? They were probably just conceited pop stars for all I knew, and I didn't even know them and they knew secrets that made goose bump arise on other's skin when they think of what people do to themselves.

Sighing, I took the pocketknife once more in my hand, and tightened my grip on the handle before digging it into the skin of my wrist, deeper than normal for the wrist. Gritting my teeth, I felt the warm blade and it felt nice and relieving. Sighing, I looked at the blood trickling out, crimson streaks staining my wrists.

{} {} {**Niall's P.O.V**} {} {}

I didn't know what to do about Skyler. She had problems, yes, and she didn't realize how pretty she was. I knew it wasn't just the Directioners that had so rudely insulted her the other day. Now knowing one of her secrets, I didn't realize how deep her problems sunk and it was scary to know what she did to herself. I couldn't keep this in to myself. How could she have kept this secret for so long?

Finally, I went up to where the other boys, as they were all gathered around the flat screen TV, watching The Walking Dead. They all were munching on popcorn and I rolled my eyes. For once in my life, my appetite wasn't hungering for food. I felt sick to my stomach from everything I had learned about Skyler. What else did she do to herself?

"Boys, I need to tell you something," I said. "It's urgent."

The seriousness of my tone must have alerted them that something was up as Liam paused the TV right in the middle of somebody decapitating another. Well, that was a nice image, especially what I learned about Sky. "What's up, Ni?" asked Louis, utterly confused as to what was going on.

"Um, I think Skyler abuses herself," I muttered, but I know they could all hear me loud and clear from how their facial expressions contorted from confusion to shock.

"W-What d-do you mean?" stuttered Harry, and I knew he well knew what I meant, but he just wanted some kind of proof for how I knew this.

"When we were in the car," I began quietly and all of their eyes urged me on. I felt extremely guilty for betraying Sky, but I had no choice. "And she was on my lap, I put my arms around her waist so she wouldn't, like, fall off. And, my fingers touched her stomach and she flinched away from me. I lifted her shirt up and there were scars everywhere on her stomach and I'm sure there are more on her wrists and thighs."

Zayn emitted a gasp. "We need to help her!"

"I tried to tell her that we were there for her and that we could help her and we could try and heal her cars," I paused here. This was the hardest part. I couldn't bear what I had heard that had come out of her mouth. "T-Then, she s-said that her depression was too deep and that she was b-broken beyond r-r-repair and that was the hardest thing to h-h-hear." I refrained from letting my eyes go glassy.

"We need to go in there! We shouldn't have left her alone!" Liam was officially flipping out, knowing she was so depressed with her life.

I nodded to confirm this and we all gathered together to start going to the room we had let her stay in. I went up and knocked on the door. "Skyler," I said. "We need to talk to you, love."

{} {} {**Skyler's P.O.V**} {} {}

Shit. Shit. Shit.

When Niall knocked on the door I had my bloodstained blade in one hand and a bleeding wrist on the other. I had tried to commit suicide. I admit it. Sliding the sleeve of my shirt down, I called, "Come in!" I didn't bother to put the razor away. They all knew what I did to myself, why must I hide it?

The door creaked open slowly and Niall's eyes met mine. His eyes flickered to the blade and fixated upon it, seeing the blood on it. Feeling self-conscious, I tucked the bleeding wrist, the blood now having soaked through the sleeve against my side, but he had already noticed the tiny movement. Coming over to me, the rest of the boys piled in. They also saw the blade and they seemed more in shock than Niall had.

"Sky, babe, we need to talk," Niall said.

Narrowing my eyes, I knew what was coming. Growling, I said, "No, we really don't."

"Yes, we do. Look at what you are doing to yourself! Show me your wrists!" he exclaimed to me and I glared at him before shoving the sleeves of my shirt up to reveal the soaking wrist with scarlet substance covering it. The other one was spattered with the same liquid but the scars were visible, some thick, some thin all the same shimmery silver color.

The boys looked in shock. The cuts extended up to just below my elbow on both sides, and there was around a total of forty cuts on each arm.

"Where else, Skyler?" he said gently, trying to coax me to show him everything. Hoisting up the hem of my shirt to just above my waist, I showed more skin that I would care to think about. There were more scars, and I even showed the one that Niall had touched that had revealed everything, the downfall of my secrets.

He touched it lightly and I winced, instinctively moving away from him, hissing in the slight pain the pressure caused. His stern gaze didn't even soften in the slightest. "Anywhere else?" he questioned.

"My thighs," I said quietly, my voice hoarse from the stress.

The other boys watched quietly. They didn't say a word as Niall gently traced his long fingers on my thigh, and I flinched every time he grazed any of the cuts, and wincing away in general from the abuse my father gave me. I moved further away from him, but he followed me anyways. "Why do you do this Skyler?" he asked genuine concern in his eyes.

"It makes me feel good about myself, like I am still…special enough to feel pain," I said, struggling to explain. "Do you kind of get where I'm coming from? I mean, like, it's like if I'm capable of feeling pain, then I am still alive for a reason... do you get it?" I asked, as I tried to tell them what I thought whenever I would harm myself. I never really thought how to phrase it, it was just an urging.

"You don't need to do that to feel good about yourself. You're special, and don't let anybody tell you differently," Niall said softly, frowning at how closed off I was being from him.

"Everybody tells me differently!' I blurted out.

"What do you mean?" he asked in confusion.

"I'm called fat and emo at my high school. Your fans hate on me. My dad even abuses me!" Shit. I didn't mean to say that last part and now I was in trouble.

"Your dad...What?" he continued onward.

This time I said it through gritted teeth, annunciating each word carefully, "My father abuses me."

"Why don't you report that to the police?"

"Because, he will always find me, he found me when my mother got into that crash and, oh my God!" I broke down, starting to hyperventilate. My chest heaved as I thought of my dad haunting my nightmares and finding me and abusing me and I couldn't calm down even if Niall was rubbing my back gently. The breathing just got heavier and heavier and a sweat broke out along my brow. I tore away from Niall and groped for my pocketknife.

Niall caught on to what I was trying to do and took it from me before I had the chance to take it and start on the addictive path down that road. "Skyler, calm down!" he ordered. I couldn't hear him, it sounded like he was far away and his voice was echoing. I stumbled around the other boys who were watching in shocked silence as I ran down the hallway into the kitchen. Swerving my gaze around, I finally found what I was looking for. A large steak knife.

Lunging forward, I tried my best to grab it and Niall rushed into the kitchen, staring at me as I grasped onto the large knife. Suicidal thoughts floated around in my head swiftly as I thought of different ways to plan my own death. Flipping the knife around to point at me, Niall's eyes enlarged. "SKYLER, NO!"

I tried to plunge it into my stomach, but he leaped forward and caught my trembling arms as I stared at him through wild eyes, struggling to get free so I could end my life, an attempt I had tried twice today because of One Direction. "Skyler, calm down, now!" he said calmly.

Slowly, my breathing slowed into a normal rate again as I fell to the ground, trembling and dropping the knife. My eyes were wide at what I had been about to do as the boys finally appeared. I curled up into a fetal position on the ground, still panting slightly and soon I passed out from all the stress of everything. Unconsciousness was the best place to be, peace, quiet and everything I always wished for.


	6. Falling Hard

**_Chapter Six; Falling Hard_**

It had been a couple days since that particular incident, and I had tried to avoid the boys. It was awkward, knowing what I did to myself and how they had tried to stop me. The most embarrassing part was the fact that I had a panic attack and utterly freaked out. It wasn't totally my fault, as I would blame it on the anxiety disorder I had, but I think I could have controlled myself better if I had really put myself to it. If only Niall would have stopped running his fingers along my thighs, maybe that wouldn't have happened and my fluke panic attack could have been avoided. I wasn't blaming the boy, no. He wasn't trying to do anything wrong.

Sighing as these thoughts ran through my head, I strolled along the hallway of the third floor of the mansion. It had become the place where I could think. I always went in the hallways that had the glass window stationed beside it since there was a great view out of there and a small smile would always tug its way at my face whenever I would examine the view.

"It is beautiful, isn't it?" asked a quiet voice. I turned around to come face-to-face with Harry who was clad in dark skinny jeans and a gray t-shirt. He had his hands shoved deeply inside of his pockets, causing his shoulders to hunch over slightly as he scrutinized me with those sparkling green eyes that shifted shades on occasion with his mood. His head tilted to the side as he came closer to me and stood beside me from where I had stopped my frantic pacing.

We stared out of the glass window together without saying anything. It was companionable silence, not awkward or anything, like I had expected it to be. No words were exchanged and he stood an appropriate distance away from my arm, which hung limply by my side. It was like they were extra careful around wherever I cut myself which I found to be good so that no accidental bumps were made, causing me to flinch back in alarm and wince.

I realized I hadn't answered his question and murmured, "Yes, yes it is." I didn't know how else to answer that question as I just stared out the window, my eyes not even absorbing any of the views that I was taking in. It was too busy whirring around with different thoughts; one of the most important being why is Harry talking to me?

"You know," he started. Oh no. He was going to take for one of those guilt trip things in that he would try to make me feel guilty for pushing everybody away from me these past couple of days. Or maybe he just wanted to talk and trade pleasantries, but I highly doubted that was a possibility. He took his time in finishing his sentence. "Niall really does care for you. He just wants you to get better, in fact, we all do."

"I know," I sighed. "But, it has been a part of my life for nearly six years. Nobody else has known about this and it is hard to register that…somebody else actually knows about the problems I possess," I said, trying to phrase as best as possible what I felt. "And, nobody has cared before. Anybody who cares about me is dead now," I added in a quiet undertone, mentioning my mother. I knew she had been deceased for five years, but it was still hard to wrap my mind around that my mother was dead. I had gone through prom without her and had to figure out my own girl problems when I was younger, while my dad was abusing me.

"We understand that it is hard for you, but it is possible to recover from this," he said softly, his deep accent slow and steady, in fact it was actually pretty comforting to me in a time like this.

"I don't even know anymore if it is possible for me," I sighed with my shoulders sinking.

"Don't give up!" he said fiercely. I was taken aback. He had gone from gentle and caring to fierce and determined in a matter of moments and it slightly scared me. He had faster mood swings than a hormonal pregnant woman, geez. While I was thinking about that, Harry said something else that I didn't quite catch.

"What?" I asked distantly, zoning back into our little conversation.

"I said, Niall really does like you, maybe even as more of a friend," Harry repeated, even if I hadn't heard him the first time.

This was even more surprising where this conversation had gone. "Why? I'm not pretty, I'm fat, and I'm broken. I don't understand how anybody could like me," I whispered.

"Don't ever say that about you, alright?" he said, frowning down at me. He was extremely taller me, I'd say he had about five inches on me.

"I can't help it," I muttered back, hanging my head. I truly was fat and ugly and broken. Why would Niall, a pop star that had everything, like me as more than a friend? We were from two different worlds, and I understood that, but did Niall? Sure, I liked the guy as a friend and stuff and he was pretty sweet, but did I see him like that? Thinking about romance was difficult, tense, and dramatic. I hated this. No wonder I hadn't had a boyfriend in my life.

"We will help you!" Harry said, his frown not leaving his face.

"I don't understand why, though! I'm a girl from a suburb of Los Angeles and you are from like England and famous and have all the money. I just don't get it," I shot back, my own scowl swooping onto my face, my lips pursed at the thought.

"You don't deserve to be like this, that's why. We want to heal you, and we will do whatever it takes, especially Niall," he said. "Now, go talk to Niall. He is pretty down because he thinks you've been avoiding him." That's actually exactly what I have been doing, but I wouldn't say that to Niall's friend's face, so I just turned in defeat and began to walk downstairs to talk things out with Niall.

The stairs went by too fast and before I knew it, I was in the living room. Deciding that it was now or never, I chose now and plunged forward into the living room to find Niall sitting on the couch facing the TV, watching something random. He looked haggard, his face pallid and his eyes were dull. There were dark purple bruises under his eyes and his hair was all scruffy from having his hand run through it so many times.

"Hey Niall," I greeted nearly silently.

His eyes shifted from the TV to where I was standing, his blue eyes blank with no emotion. They were a tinged red from crying probably. "Hello, Skyler," he said in return. I inwardly winced. The past couple days he called me Sky and now he wasn't. This couldn't be good. He truly was mad.

"Harry told me you were upset. I wasn't avoiding you!" I blurted out and surprise overtook his face.

"Y-You weren't?" he asked hesitantly.

I shook my head vigorously. "I truly wasn't, not even close. I just thought that you thought I was a burden and that you wouldn't like me anymore once you found out about all my problems," I whispered hoarsely.

Suddenly, his arms engulfed me in a hug and I, for once, felt secure and safe in his arms. Never before in my life had I felt like this with a person, not even my own mother. I wrapped my arms around his torso, squeezing lightly and then I started to just stand in his arms, while he stood in mine. We swayed there silently, and I sighed mentally with relief. His Armani cologne smelled so enticing and I pulled back slightly to face him in the eyes.

His turquoise eyes were so entrancing that I wouldn't ever be able to leave them if I sunk too deep. "Can I tell you something, Skyler?" he asked timidly, his grasp tightening on me slightly.

I nodded and made a slight humming sound to urge him to go right ahead and ask.

"Um, I really like you. I think I have since I first met you. I know it sounds cliché to say it was 'love at first sight' but I think it truly was. It is totally fine if you don't feel the same way and" I cut off his rambling by giving him a swift peck on the lips. That would have counted as my first kiss.

Niall smiled at me. "Would you actually be my girlfriend, not by Simon's orders?" he asked, the usual color of his eyes returning with pure joy. I nodded and grinned at him and he smiled just as brightly back at me before kissing me once more. It felt nice, his lips, so soft and warm against mine and I wouldn't have had it any other way.

"Do we have to tell the other boys?" I asked after we had separated. "Like right away?"

"No, of course not, love. Only when you feel comfortable, I would never make you do something you feel comfortable with," he returned instantly with another beam at me.

{}{}{}{}{}

It was now a couple days after Niall and I had officially become a couple and I had loved every moment. Stealing kisses when the others weren't looking and having someone who truly cared for me as more than a friend, everything was great, and I wouldn't have it any other way, I finally realized what I have been missing out on all this time from middle school throughout high school. Sighing with contentment, I leaned back against him while we watched a movie.

He wrapped an arm around my waist as both our eyes were glued to the screen. There was a bunch of tumbling and the boys claimed they were leaving to go to the grocery store, Niall's arm left my waist, which I felt with slight disappointment. The four boys emerged before leaving us just as quickly and locking the door.

"Now, that we are alone, what do you want to do?" he asked cheekily, with a cheesy wink aimed my way.

Laughing, I said, "Let's go upstairs at least to your room."

He let me pull him upstairs not even bothering to turn the TV off on the way. We arrived at his bedroom and he shut the door before turning to me and wrapping his arms around my waist once more, pressing me closer to him as I stared up at him. I met his lips with mine and they moved in sync for a while before Niall moved us closer to the bed and pushed me gently onto it.

Things became gradually more heated and intensified. We had shifted from chaste kisses to 'snogging' as he called it. He was currently on top of me, his legs on either side of my hips and he lightly let his tongue run across my bottom lip, but I refused him entrance just to what he would do. Using his teeth, he bit gently down on my lip, which made me open my mouth in a gasp and he took the opportunity. Little bugger, that one is.

Minutes progressed and we had to separate for air eventually, I panted while Niall just left electric kisses along my neck before moving back up to my lips. "WE ARE HOME!" screeched Louis, bursting into Niall's bedroom, probably expecting him to be asleep or something or eating, I don't even know.

"What the hell?" he asked in confusion as he stared at us in an awkward position with our lips still slightly locked. We parted and I struggled to keep my breathing even. Louis scowled at us before storming downstairs to tell the other boys. I don't understand why he was so mad, and neither did Niall but I guess we would find out.

Sighing, I pushed Niall off of me and he led me down the stairs in Louis's track. He kept his arm securely around my waist, seeing as there was no point in hiding it any longer as we had been caught red-handed in making out.


End file.
